Fall Down
by Whipper
Summary: Season six. Buffy's falling and Spike have no choice but to watch. OC death.


Disclaimers apply.   
  


**FALL DOWN,**  
written by Whipper  
  


"I'm fine, I'm okay," she says.   
  
You nod at her and keep fighting. Duck, hit, hit, kick. Cover up your trembling hands, pretend that you never saw... that it never happened. Buffy hadn't just let her guard down. She hadn't just almost got herself killed. Almost died. Again. And then "again" once more because she had died for the first time long before you ever sat foot in Sunnydale.   
  
At least you only had to die once, you think. Then you duck. And hit and roll. Kill. At least you didn't still have your soul when you woke up in your own grave all those years ago.   
  
True enough, you think to yourself and it's the the first time in weeks or maybe even months that you agree with your own bloody mind.   
  
You keep fighting. But, even though nothing happened and Buffy didn't almost die, you keep an eye on her. There's indecision in her moves. You recognize it as it a mirror for your own behavior. Your own moves. There's always indecision when you know you got nothing left. You realized that for the first time when Drusilla killed you and the rest of your unlife has been a series of "deja vu"s of that very thought.   
  
It's all like a bad song. The good times don't stay. In fact, you should be happy if you even get a glimpse of the good times. All that's left are the cheap thrills. No matter how bloody, toe-curling, fucking great it feel at the time it always fades away. In the end it all means nothing. All that matters is the blood. And even that is not the same anymore. If it's not human, it's not worth the effort to drink it. Better starve. Or that's what you used to think. BC. Before the Chip. Only starvation is... the hunger for blood never goes numb, the voice screaming in your head for more never goes quiet. You've started to think that maybe it's not Angeleus fault that he's been acting all... poofy since he got his soul. The poor bastard has probably just gone insane from hunger.   
  
Hit, hit, kick. Roll over. Good dog. And now for the kill. Cheap thrill as it might be, it's all you have. It makes you feel strong. Immortal. But you're not. You will fall. Everyone does, sooner or later.   
  
Looking at the Slayer you think that it will probably be sooner than you used to think.   
  
***   
  
You know her. Too well by now. Too well to buy her little act. She hates it. Herself. Her life. Every breath she takes, every single beat of her heart. She even hates her skin. Because she knows she should be in her grave. In heaven. Not a moment goes by without her thinking how wrong it all is. She does her best to act all normal but the truth is she even hates her friends. And you know why. You see why.   
  
Her struggle to be the young woman she once was would be heartbreaking had your heart not rotted away years ago from lack of use. She jokes with her friends, smiles, works so hard to earn the money she and Dawn needs to get by... Trying to mend a life that shouldn't be hers. Trying to hold on to her reputation as the invincible Slayer.   
  
I don't blame her for the incident the other night. I don't blame her for secretly wanting to fail. To fall.   
  
Maybe the third time will be a charm, huh? Because all the other times her "friends" were there to bail her out. It's all so ironic (they took you away from heaven!) and I see why you didn't want them to know. But here's a promise for you, Buffy. If you should fall. If you should die. I'll tell them. I'll tell them everything and I'll spare them nothing and they won't bring you back again.   
  
You'll rest in peace.   
  
***   
  
"I'm fine, I'm okay," she says.   
  
You nod at her and keep fighting. Duck, hit, hit, hit. Kill. And that's the last one and you have no choice but to look at her.   
  
And for the last time you cover up your trembling hands and you hold her bleeding body in your arms and of course there's indecision. Because there's nothing left, no more choices to be made. It's over. It's all over.   
  
"I'm fine."   
  
"Don't be strong for me. There's no need for that, pet."   
  
Her laugh turn into a cough and I can hear the blood bubbling in her lungs.   
  
"Tell them... tell them... everything I said the last time. And this time don't..."   
  
"I know. I'll make sure your friends let you be. This time."   
  
"This time," she smiles at me.   
  
And then she's gone. No making me promise to take care of Dawn. No "I love you" or "thank you". What is it they say... thank God for small favors? Death isn't carefully planned drama. It's quick. One moment you're there. "The next you're not. Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here. And when it does come, we no longer exist." Surprise, surprise. Spikey's got an education. I close her eyes, feeling selfish for the tears that fall down on her slack face. For her, death was a mercy. For her, this was all she wanted. All she needed. But I'm a demon so I have an excuse. Now I just have to make sure that her friends don't make the same mistake again. One last favor for the Slayer.   
  
I pick her up and start walking down the street. Conscience calls. I didn't put a stop to the madness of bringing her back the last time... this time I'll make sure they never get the chance to as much as try. Yesterday, I was her lover. Tonight, I'll be her friend.   
  


THE END 


End file.
